Fine day for a funeral.

The Avengers

3.21: Mandrake

Bill Bain directs a Roger Marshall teleplay for his second funereally-themed episode of the season, and if the title conjures anticipation of occult occurrences along the lines of Warlock, Mandrake’s probably a bit of a disappointment on that level. What it does well is set up the soon-to-be-familiar device found later, of dastardly goings-on in an innocuous rural setting. Likewise, it shows off a plan from the villains that is, actually, quite smart in terms of avoiding being fingered for the crime, if less so in expecting their ruse to get very far, cumulatively.

Since the bounders are packing all their London-based murder victims (the deed arranged with family members) off to the small Cornish ghost village of Tinby, it’s only a surprise that the ever-burgeoning graveyard (thanks to a reliably dotty vicar) hasn’t been rumbled prior to Steed and Mrs Gale getting involved. But the idea of poisoning the victims and then interring them in arsenic-rich soil, so voiding all evidence of foul play in only a couple of months, is rather good.

Also rather good is the cast, including John Le Mesurier (his first of two appearances in the series) and Philip Locke (his second of three, also familiar from the likes of Four to Doomsday, Codename: Icarus, The Box of Delights and Jeeves and Wooster) as schemers Dr Macombie and Hopkins respectively, Madge Ryan as their next client, Mrs Turner, George Benson as the daffy Rev Whyper, and Annette Andre (The Prisoner: It’s Your Funeral) as the girl in the cracker shop Steed chats up. Oh, and Jackie Pallo as a cockney gravedigger who’s very willing to switch sides for £100 (a repeat of Death of a Batman there).

This one’s diverting, well-acted and could slot relatively seamlessly into the following season, but what it lacks is the kind of eccentric humour that will become part and parcel; it’s more the scenario that is heightened, such that scenes where Cathy goes to see Macombie with a hockey stick injury are a bit on the “been there, done that” side, every week.

There’s a nicely hard-edged bit where Steed threatens a recent client (Robert Morris, Blake’s 7’s Traitor) with his umbrella, though, and the part two cliffhanger suggests the daffy vicar may not be so daffy after all (the pointed gun proves to be a water pistol, and he is frightfully concerned that the Congo children he is helping may be educated with blood money; I’m sure Cathy knows all about their plight first-hand, so can probably advise). Amiable, but just short of being a season frontrunner.

Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

Comments

She writes Twilight fan fiction.

Vampire Academy (2014)
My willingness to give writer Daniel Waters some slack on the grounds of early glories sometimes pays off (Sex and Death 101) and sometimes, as with this messy and indistinct Young Adult adaptation, it doesn’t. If Vampire Academy plods along as a less than innovative smart-mouthed Buffy rip-off that might be because, if you added vampires to Heathers, you would probably get something not so far from the world of Joss Whedon. Unfortunately inspiration is a low ebb throughout, not helped any by tepid direction from Daniel’s sometimes-reliable brother Mark and a couple of hopelessly plankish leads who do their best to dampen down any wit that occasionally attempts to surface.

I can only presume there’s a never-ending pile of Young Adult fiction poised for big screen failure, all of it comprising multi-novel storylines just begging for a moment in the Sun. Every time an adaptation crashes and burns (and the odds are that they will) another one rises, hydra-like, hoping…

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Mountains are old, but they're still green.

Roma (2018)
(SPOILERS) Roma is a critics' darling and a shoe-in for Best Foreign Film Oscar, with the potential to take the big prize to boot, but it left me profoundly indifferent, its elusive majesty remaining determinedly out of reach. Perhaps that's down to generally spurning autobiographical nostalgia fests – complete with 65mm widescreen black and white, so it's quite clear to viewers that the director’s childhood reverie equates to the classics of old – or maybe the elliptical characterisation just didn't grab me, but Alfonso Cuarón's latest amounts to little more than a sliver of substance beneath all that style.

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Django Unchained (2012)
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Can you float through the air when you smell a delicious pie?

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
(SPOILERS) Ironically, given the source material, think I probably fell into the category of many who weren't overly disposed to give this big screen Spider-Man a go on the grounds that it was an animation. After all, if it wasn’t "good enough" for live-action, why should I give it my time? Not even Phil Lord and Christopher Miller's pedigree wholly persuaded me; they'd had their stumble of late, although admittedly in that live-action arena. As such, it was only the near-unanimous critics' approval that swayed me, suggesting I'd have been missing out. They – not always the most reliable arbiters of such populist fare, which made the vote of confidence all the more notable – were right. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is not only a first-rate Spider-Man movie, it's a fresh, playful and (perhaps) surprisingly heartfelt origins story.

Rejoice! The broken are the more evolved. Rejoice.

Split (2016)
(SPOILERS) M Night Shyamalan went from the toast of twist-based filmmaking to a one-trick pony to the object of abject ridicule in the space of only a couple of pictures: quite a feat. Along the way, I’ve managed to miss several of his pictures, including his last, The Visit, regarded as something of a re-locating of his footing in the low budget horror arena. Split continues that genre readjustment, another Blumhouse production, one that also manages to bridge the gap with the fare that made him famous. But it’s a thematically uneasy film, marrying shlock and serious subject matter in ways that don’t always quite gel.

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I don’t think you will see President Pierce again.

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)
(SPOILERS) The Ballad of Buster Scruggs and other tall tales of the American frontier is the title of "the book" from which the Coen brothers' latest derives, and so announces itself as fiction up front as heavily as Fargo purported to be based on a true story. In the world of the portmanteau western – has there even been one before? – theme and content aren't really all that distinct from the more familiar horror collection, and as such, these six tales rely on sudden twists or reveals, most of them revolving around death. And inevitably with the anthology, some tall tales are stronger than other tall tales, the former dutifully taking up the slack.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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